Islands
by Aingeal Isilme
Summary: [tentative title][Post AC, semi AU] Two years have passed since the events of AC. Midgar has been partially rebuilt, as has ShinRa, under a different head. And yet to Reno, nothing seems to have really changed, himself included. How right is he?
1. Bad Days & Broken Elevators

**Updated 16th May, 2006: **Minor edits, primarily changing the paragraphing in places and abit of rephrasing or adding a line here and there.

**Updated 30th November, 2005: **Right, there seems to be some conflicting information that had been provided regarding the chapter, so after some much appreciated help and some thought, i'm keeping the chapter as it is (at least with respects to the points raised in the reviews). i would really consider this fic kind of AU anyway, since while i am trying to keep it realistic, i don't for a minute think that something like this would actually happen.

At this point in time, Rufus isn't going to be playing a part in the story anyhow. Have't decided if he will come in later... time shall tell

**Author's Notes:** My very first FF fanfic (and first fanfic in ages, period Oo; ), partially inspired by FF:AC. As such, it does contain some spoilers when events or characters that occurred/appeared in it are touched on.

The idea behind this fic was to see how someone like Reno, to whom (at least in my mind) the image he projects to others and his physicality are very important, deals with someone who has little control over either, and perhaps comes to question who he is under his carefully crafted public facade and Turk job. It wouldn't be the same as his interacting with Rufus in AC i think, because the latter is still his boss - implying that he has to help the wheelchair man whatever his own feelings about disabilities - and he is probably still rich and powerful enough to easily compensate for his apparent physical limitations with wealth and networks. While there is an OC involved, i've tried - and hopefully succeeded XD; - in keeping her from Mary Suehood.

... I really should not be writing 2 nights before my next exam >> ;; Darn plot bunnies! -shakes first-

**Disclaimer: **The characters within are property of Square Enix, with the exception of the unnamed woman who appears in the chapter.

_

* * *

_

_Islands_

_Chapter 1: Bad Days & Broken Elevators  
_

A string of swear words left his mouth as his hand collided with the elevator doors, or more accurately, with the little sign that had been taped to them, the words "Out of order" printed neatly on it.

He was tired, out of cigarettes, and sober, and now he'd have to climb up to his apartment on the tenth bloody floor to remedy all three conditions. This did not a happy Reno make. He cursed again, this time at the property agent for convincing him to take the apartment on such a high floor. Who needed a great view anyway, when he was hardly around the place long enough to enjoy it? At least he'd gotten a date with her out of it.

He punched the "Up" button a few more times, vainly hoping that the sign was just someone's idea of a joke and that the lift really was working, or that it had just started working again. But it refused to light up and the lift refused to chime. His legs were sore, as were his ribs, and he had a nasty cut down the length of his left forearm, under the suit sleeve. All in a day's work, for a Turk; but work was finally over for the day, and now all he wanted to do was get home. He thought of the nice, cold beer sitting in his fridge and the warm, unmade bed, all lonely without him. The lift button received a few more desperate hits.

Reno let his body tumble to the floor, too tired to stand and swear at the same time. And he swore even louder when his careless action jarred his aching body. Then he glared up at the silent metal doors. It reminded him a bit of having a staring contest with Rude.

Rude...

An idea suddenly sprang to Reno's mind. One hand reached into his crumpled jacket and fumbled around until it closed on his PHS, drew it out, flipped it open, and hit the speed dial for his long suffering friend and coworker's phone. It connected on the second ring, as it always did unless the other Turk was fighting or asleep. "Rude?"

"Yes?"

"Hey buddy!"

"What do you want Reno?" A honk sounded in the background, and Rude mumbled a curse. He hadn't had a great day either and the jam he was stuck in wasn't improving his mood. Neither, for that matter, was the phone call. He liked Reno well enough, he was a good friend despite his often obnoxious behaviour, but the too chirpy tone hinted darkly at something, and Rude was sure that whatever this something was, he wouldn't like it.

"Why do you always assume I want something when I call you?" the other man sniffed in mock hurt as he idly picked a piece of lint off the carpet, "Can't a guy just call his best friend to find out how his day went?"

"..." Reno snickered as he imagined his partner banging his forehead on the steering wheel. "Reno..."

"We-ll, since you asked... I was wondering if you could come over and carry me up the stairs to my floor, 'cause the elevator's out -"

"-click-"

Reno sniffed loudly and put the PHS back into his pocket. "Guess you were named well; can't you at least say 'Bye, Reno' or 'Fuck you' before hanging up? Sheesh, people these days." He tsked at the empty air, then resumed staring glumly at the still out-of-order elevator. He'd call Elena, but she'd just try to run him over again tomorrow, and Tseng was no fun because he wouldn't react at all. A minute passed. One foot reached forward to kick half-heartedly at the metal door. "Come on, open, yo! ... Open sesame? ... If you open, I promise not to press the buttons to every floor for the next week... And I won't stick gum on your doors either ... Oh, for fuck's sake, OPEN, DAMN YOU."

The elevator wisely chose to remain silent.

Since the lift was obviously not responding to verbal entreaties or insults, Reno decided to try sign language. It didn't respond to the universal gesture for "up yours" either. With another growl of frustration, the miffed red head fell silent and closed the eyes that had been squinting evilly at the unreactive elevator. Maybe he would just lay here for a while. The floor wasn't too uncomfortable; the carpet was fairly new, the apartment block being in part of rebuilt Midgar, and still springy and kept pretty clean. Cleaner than the floor... or any other area in his own apartment, at any rate. Yeah, he'd lie here for a while.

Sprawled artlessly across the passageway with eyes closed, the tired Turkthought he heard a slight squeaking sound approaching, butdidn't move. Hopefully the person would just head for the stairs or walk around him; he really wasn't inclined to move right now.

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you but could you let me pass?"

Reno sighed and sluggishly waved a hand down the hallway without bothering to look at the woman, probably in her twenties from the sound of her voice, who had spoken - a mark of exactly how tired he was, Elena might have quipped had she been there. "Just step over me, I won't look up your skirt." A hint of a smirk curved his lips. Or perhaps not.

When he detected no movement even after a few moments, no slight current of air to indicate that the woman had moved past him, the red head opened his eyes in mild irritation. He didn't want to exert his already sore body any more than he had to, and certainly not just because of some stupid girl's bashfulness. "Look -"

The rest of the sentence petered off abruptly as a frame of metal, plasticand rubber greeted his eyes.

He blinked once, then wordlessly sat up and shuffled to the side to let the wheelchair pass.

"Thank you." The words were so soft that he probably wouldn't have heard her, if he hadn't been seated on the ground.

Reno shrugged, feeling just the slightest bit guilty for his earlier reaction. "No prob." A soft thump behind her indicated that he had gracelessly flopped back onto the carpet.

"Had a bad day?"

The Turk opened one eye beneath the hand that had been melodramatically strewn across his forehead.

The woman in the wheelchair had paused a few steps... revolutions... away from his resting place, and was looking back at him curiously over the handle of her chair. She was kind of pretty, he decided, even in the somewhat dim light of the hallway. Or maybe it was _because_ of the somewhat dim light that he thought so. His gaze flicked momentarily back from the pale face to the shining metal contraption she sat on. Not that it mattered anyway.

He closed his eyes again and sighed, vivid memories of the day's events flashing through his mind as if someone in there was thumbing through a picture book. One of the doctors who'd examined him during the God-awful physical he'd been subjected to before being admitted to Shin-Ra had told him he had a photographic memory. Sometimes, during that hazy stretch between night and morning, when he hadn't drunk enough to knock himself out completely till glaring daylight and a splitting hangover forced him awake, he remembered fire and choking grey smoke and screams - God, those were the worst, the screams - as the plate descended on Sector 7 like a stone-faced, avenging angel, and he wished he didn't.

He forced his mind back to the day's events.

_Hm, let's see..._ After his usual lecture from Tseng about crawling into the office late, he'd been sent out to chase down a group of suspects with Elena. So chase they had, for several hours, and when the group had split up, he'd gone after his half on foot, following them across at least two sectors while the overcast sky opened its bowels on Midgar. Then, when he had almost caught up with them while crossing a street, Elena had damn near run him over. They'd eventually nabbed their prey and hauled the lot back to headquarters, only to receive another dressing down for recklessness after they had reported to their leader. Reno had then been sent off on _another_ wild goose chase which took up the rest of the day. After he had finally left the rebuilt Shin-Ra building, he had dragged his tired ass over to his favourite bar in search of liquid comfort. Only to discover a notice saying it would be closed for the next couple of weeks, and no explanation given - not that he really cared for one anyway: he just wanted his damn beer. And just in case he hadn't caught on yet that the Planet hated him, he found his tires slashed when he'd returned to his car. So he had walked all the way back to his apartment, just wanting to collapse into bed and bury himself under the blankets before anything else could go wrong... only to find the lifts out of order and a 10-storey climb in his near future. _Bad day?_ He chuckled lightly, the sound switching to a groan when the action jolted the ribs he was sure had been fractured when he'd bounced off the front of Elena's car, despite what the medic had said. Damn doc probably just wanted to get him out of the place. Not that he totally blamed the man, after the chaos he'd deliberately caused during his last stay in the hospital. Reno smirked slightly at that memory, and winced again as he accidentally brushed against the bruised rib. "Yeah, you could say that."

The woman in the wheelchair nodded sympathetically in respose. "There's always tomorrow, at least."

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced back at her. "That supposed to make me feel better or worse?"

"That's up to you, isn't it?" She smiled. "Life is what you make of it."

A frown settled on his sharp features. Who the hell did she think she was, spouting that philosophical crap at him? Didn't she realise he was a Turk, what he had to do? What people did to him? Sure, it wasn't _quite _the same anymore now that Reeve had taken over, but still... she had no idea what she was talking about. Just because she sat in a fucking wheelchair, it didn't make her queen of the world, able to pass judgement on people she didn't even know. Heck, Rufus Shinra had been in one for quite a while, before his mysterious disappearance a few months ago, and _he_ hadn't... wait, he had. Well, he was a Shinra, they almost seemed to have a Planet-given right to act that way, whether they deserved it or not. She wasn't one, so too bad for her. "Yeah, well unfortunately I can't make this lift work no matter how many positive thoughts I send it," he drawled.

If she picked up on his sudden annoyance, she didn't respond to it, merely tilting her head slightly. "I'm sure the guards won't mind if you use the service lift."

"... Service lift?" His face brightened at the magic words. He had totally forgotten about it; all his previous irritation vanished instantly.

The dark haired lady nodded again, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Through the door beside the guard counter. I saw one of them going in when I passed, so it should be working." He thought he could kiss her for that. Metaphorically anyway, he corrected, as steel glinted under the glow of the passageway's lights.

"Service lift, right, I knew that." Reno dragged his lanky form to his feet, the thought of not having to trudge up nine flights of stairs dulling the pain in his ribs. _Beer and bed, here I come. _

"Well... good night."

His head snapped back to look at the speaker, having momentarily forgotten that she was there. " 'Night," he replied.

Now that he was standing, she suddenly seemed so small and fragile. Almost childlike. He watched as she began wheeling herself down the passageway with a steadiness born of practice until she had reached a door at the end, before digging a key out from the large duffle bag on her lap and unlocking the door. It was only when she looked back and flashed a small, awkward smile that he realised he'd been staring. The tall man pulled one hand out from his pocket and raised it in a lazy wave, then turned and sauntered off in the other direction, towards the hallowed service elevator.

* * *

So ends the first chapter. Love it, hate it? Let me know! Constructive criticism welcomed, flames will be used to warm my cold toes : ) 


	2. Memories & Midnight Visitors

**Updated16th May, 2006: **Minor edits, primarily changing the paragraphing in places and abit of rephrasing or adding a line here and there.

**Author's Notes:** First, thank you to all who reviewed and read! i'm glad you liked her in chapter 1, Alwani; she'll be appearing more in this chapter and the next. -luff for the Reno-tologists- You guys are so sweet T.T Thank you. i really appreciate it :) And thanks to Erailti for the favourite, that was a big but pleasant surprise!

It was a great relief to hear that most people thought Reno was IC. It's quite scary to take on a much loved character and try to write as him or her, especially for the first time. Hopefully this chapter won't disappoint. There isn't as much Reno in the chapter, at least not directly - he's seen through the eyes of two others instead, mostly. Far less humour this time round as well, though i think the lighter tone will be back in the next chapter.

Tseng appearance is dedicated to the lovely Mudskii - hope i didn't slaughter him with my depiction x.X**  
**

**Disclaimer: **Reno, Tseng, Rude, Elena and Rufus are property of Square Enix.

_

* * *

_

Islands

_Chapter 2: Memories and Midnight Visitors_

He glanced over at the younger man again, only turning his eyes, and yet, so smoothly that it would have appeared to anyone who happened to observe him that he had only been letting his eyes drift in a cursory way, perhaps out of boredom.

In truth, it was a skill he had trained himself in many, many years ago and that had come into use in even more missions. And, occasionally, during more peaceful times as well such as these, when he wished to remain undetected to evade his actions being questioned. Tseng had no use and little patience for what he considered unnecessary expenses of energy.

Any admiration for his skillful eye-manipulation was unlikely to come from Reno's corner however, not because that man was unaware of Tseng's ability - he had been the first since Veld to notice and comment on it, in fact - but that Turk had his own eyes closed, bobbing his head and occasionally singing along to whatever it was that was currently in his music player. He had given up trying to talk to his silent leader for the time being, something that the Wutaian was grateful for, though he knew that the lull would not last long.

"EL-E-VA-TION!"

Tseng didn't so much as blink at the sudden shouted lyrics. Reno called it music, but Tseng has his doubts. His personal hypothesis was that the tracks the red head favoured and tended to blast in the office were really recordings of someone slowly drowning a cat. A particularly large-lunged, angry feline at that. It was popular though, if the frequency of such sounds being played on the radio was any indication. Maybe he was just getting old. With a faint sigh that was swallowed easily by the rhythmic whirring of the helicopter blades not that far overhead, Tseng turned his thoughts from the yowling of half-dead cats to his own half-life.

He'd never really had much of a life after he'd become a Turk. Shin-Ra tended to do that to a person.

Reno had once only half-jokingly commented that working for Shin-Ra was like being a prostitute, without the sex. Rude had given a wry half-smile and shaken his head; Elena had frowned and looked down into the swirling depths of her shot glass for answers that weren't there -silent for once as she struggled to find something positive to say -and Tseng... Tseng had merely raised his own glass and calmly emptied it, hardly seeming to acknowledge his subordinate's words. Hardly seeming to care that he had been the one responsible for dragging each of them down with him along the rocky, twisted, one-way road of Shin-Ra's building. Not that they had all been wide-eyed innocents before - they had known what they were in for when the option had been presented to them, and they had _chosen_ to follow him. Their eyes had been wide open, true, but not in innocence.

Except, perhaps, for Reno's.

In past and present, Tseng closed his eyes and let the thoughts wash across the darkness behind them.

It would have come to a surprise to almost all who knew him (or thought they did, Tseng mused,) that the flame-haired devil-in-a-blue-suit had been the only one of the presently four Turks who hadn't known what the job entailed when he had agreed to sign on.

It had been a chance encounter that'd made their paths cross. Tseng had been on a routine mission. The suspect had managed to evade capture, though not give his pursuers the slip, and run into a busy street in one of the shopping districts to make his get away. And maybe he would have managed it too, if he hadn't decided to shove a red-headed delivery boy out of his way. Focused on only the task at hand, Tseng had barely noticed the boy, no more than sixteen, as he dashed past him in pursuit of his quarry. But he _had_ been forced to notice when, fifteen minutes and countless, winding streets later, he found his target at last - face down and barely conscious in an alley, with an annoyed young man standing over him.

"_Nobody_ messes with my hair." The suspect's gun was in the boy's hand, but it was obvious from his grip that he had no idea how to handle it. What had caught Tseng's attention however was that - unlike him - the youth didn't look winded by the chase in the least. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his face and neck, but that was about all. He'd also been left behind the Turks when they had last seen him.

His partner had caught up by then, and proceeded to take over custody of the suspect and his weapon while Tseng questioned the 'witness' as per protocol. His name was Reno, he said, and no, he had no idea what the hell was going on; he'd just had a shitty day and that guy - he gestured at the apprehended man - shoving him , which had not only broken the glass cases he'd been about to deliver but messed up his hair, had been the last straw. He asked why the police in Midgar wore expensive-looking suits rather than the uniforms the ones in Kalm wore. Tseng had replied that they were Turks, not police, to which he received a blank stare, and then a shrug. The Wutaian had been surprised that this Reno didn't ask any questions, and it must have shown in his face... he had been younger and a little more open in those days, the present-day Tseng thought, they both had been... as the boy suddenly grinned and said that he didn't hate life enough to ask too many questions of a guy with a gun. A card was given to the almost too-thin boy, with the offer of possible work at Shin-Ra if the life of a delivery boy got too mundane for him. The Turks had parted ways with him then, without another word.

Two days later, the phone rang.

Days melted into weeks that wove themselves into years, and suddenly, a decade had come and gone. Had it really been that long?

Tseng felt the mechanical heartbeat of the chopper against his temple as his weary head leaned against its insides. He dragged his lids open again and glanced at Reno. The man had come a long way from the gangly, vain youth he had met all those years ago. He was still skinny, excessively protective of his hair and cocky, but he was also sharper, more sarcastic, and knew how to handle guns and more with the precision and confidence that only came from experience. Shin-Ra had eroded whatever innocence he had carried with from Kalm, and the boy had grown into not just a man, but a Turk.

The sense of almost paternal pride -or maybe it was more the pride of a craftsman admiring his best work - which Tseng allowed himself was tempered by a sudden, inexplicable sense of loss and guilt. He turned his gaze away, letting it pass over the land that skimmed past, 30 000 feet below the small metal cabin. They would be arriving back in Midgar in less than an hour.

Almost as if he had been listening to his commander's thoughts rather than to his dying-feline-screeching, Reno's voice carried across the small space, over the noise of the helicopter. "Boss?"

Tseng nodded almost imperceptibly. He was tired. They were returning empty handed, again, he thought with frustration. No, not they, _he_ was: it was _his_ personal mission. Reeve had seemed hesitant, uncomfortable even when Tseng had told him what he wanted to do, but he hadn't exactly said no. It would have been pointless anyway; Tseng would still have gone, and they both knew it. It had been pointless in other ways too. The lead had only terminated in a dead end, as all the others had. Rufus simply wasn't ready to be found yet, and until he was, Tseng would not find him. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

Perhaps that was really why Reeve had let him go - he knew that the efforts would amount to nothing.

The Turk commander was convinced that the apparent new President of Shin-Ra was not as ignorant about the true Shinra leader's mysterious disappearance as he claimed to be. Reeve was as much a puppet for Rufus as Cait Sith had ever been for Reeve.

That realisation, when it had come, that realisation had... hurt. Rufus had been under Tseng's watch for years, almost since he'd begun his career as a Turk. In a strange sense, they had grown up together, one into the future leader of Shin-Ra and the other into one of the company's most valuable employees. Tseng had watched the once spoilt but normal little boy grow from Rufus into Shinra, and the blond youth had watched the black-haired man sink into his role as a Turk. Or at least, Tseng had thought Rufus had watched.

Rufus seldom let anyone into his confidence, but over the years, that role had fallen more and more onto the quiet man from Wutai. They had never regained the almost-friendship that had developed before the young Shinra had been plucked from his sheltered, comfortable home life to start his grooming for the presidency (or rather, vice-presidency), but there had been... _something_ left in its place. Trust, mutual respect, maybe. After Meteor, Tseng had been one of the few to know that the former President was still very much alive, and the only one to know that he had not in fact been crippled. Rufus had not wanted the other Turks to know the latter, and Tseng had agreed without question, though not hesitation.

It was only after his disappearance that the truth had been revealed to the three - to much surprise on Elena's part and more cursing on Reno's. Perhaps it had been uncharacteristically petty of him to repay the 'betrayal' of the unexplained vanishing with the revelation of his secret, but it hadn't mattered at the time. What did matter was that Rufus was gone and his bodyguard didn't know where, why, or how.

It hadn't been a kidnapping; they had been able to ascertain that much. The rational part of Tseng's mind told him that he had no need to know or worry, that Rufus had his reasons and would be able to take care of himself, that if he had _wanted_ the aid of the Turks, he would have demanded it, as he had so many times before.

Logic dictated that Tseng had no reason to feel... anything. Tseng may have been a trusted employee of his, but that was all. Reeve had been told because he was needed in Rufus' scheme. _And you are not. _

"Boss? Oi, Planet to Tseng, do you read?" A light kick accompanied the words.

He glared at Reno, unfolding one arm to dust off his pant leg. "I was listening." An eyebrow raised in question.

"I'm bored."

Tseng sighed as he closed his eyes again and waited for the inevitable.

Reno did not disappoint. "Are we there yet?"

"... No."

"Are we there now?"

"No." He wished again that he had brought the Materia to cast a Sleep spell on the annoying redhead.

"... How about now?"

Another kick followed when there was no answer. A thin line formed between Tseng's brows. "No."

He didn't need to look to see the grin on Reno's face. "And now?"

"NO."

"Fine, fine, no need to get testy, I was just asking. Tch."

A few moments of peace returned. Reno turned to look out of the window and Tseng relaxed slightly, glad that it was over. Lost innocence or no, Reno still acted like a child sometimes, and was just as exhausting to deal with. It was hard to believe that he would be approaching thirty in another few years.

"Tseng?"

The Wutaian twitched imperceptibly. "How long do you think it will take before your body impacts -"

"Why didn't he tell us?" The playful tone was gone from Reno's voice and his blue-green eyes when Tseng's gaze snapped up to the younger man's face. "I thought he trusted us."

The blades of the helicopter continued to spin above them.

Tseng almost wished that Reno had resumed the infernal, childish questions.

He thought about pretending not to know who Reno meant. He thought about replying that he did not know, and that it was not their concern and that their job was to make sure he was safe, not to question the motives of his actions. He thought about, for just this once, at 30 000 feet in the air with no one else but Reno and the pilot to bear witness, letting the walls between himself and the world down and admitting how many times he had asked himself that very question, and that none of the answers made him feel any better.

Tseng looked out of the window at the city growing larger with each beat of the chopper's metal heart. His eyes sought and found the new Shin-Ra building, glimmering like hope in the last rays of sunlight. "We'll be there soon."

* * *

She sat at the dining table, hands and eyes steadily, meticulously working their way down the piece of paper before her. The hour hand of her watch was pointed slightly past 3 when she glanced at it. Sleep didn't feel any nearer than it had four hours ago, however. _Note to self: No coffee after 6pm._ At this rate she wouldn't be able to get any rest 'til daybreak. At least it was a Saturday, she could afford to sleep in.

There was still half an inch of papers left to go through anyhow; she might as well just finish those off so that she'd have the rest of the weekend free. Perhaps she'd spend one afternoon at the cafe across the street, reading that book her brother had given her last Winter Fest. The weather had been nice lately, it seemed almost a waste to spend most of the day indoors.

Her eyes rose from the table with its several neat, white plateaus to the window opposite from where she sat. Outside, the world was still. It was a fairly quiet street at night, something that she appreciated greatly since she lived on the ground floor. Streetlamps cast their hazy but constant glows on the street they stood guard along, while the cafe's lights winked invitingly at passers by. It was the only lighted property along that side of the road, as far as she could see. The cafe turned into a bar by night, but the doors managed to contain most of the noise within the walls of the establishment, so it hardly bothered her or any of the other residents. Except perhaps for Mr. Jenson on the second floor, but he complained about everything, so nobody but his poor cats listened to his ranting anymore. The fact that it wasn't as heavily patronised as the pubs in the more central parts of Midgar was probably a contributing factor. Whatever it was, _she _wasn't complaining.

As she was about to lower her eyes back to the patiently waiting stack of papers, the cafe's door swung open.

Light and sound spilled out onto the darkened lane for a moment, before it closed again and silence returned. The figure staggered a bit as it stood before the closed door, as if deciding where to go next. Bright red hair was visible even in the half-light of the predawn street.

_Him again_, the woman thought with some amusement.

Over a week had passed since she'd first encountered the man, sprawled across the hallway. They had not met face to face since, but she had happened to see him sauntering over to the cafe-turned-bar some evenings ago, probably after work; and again, the next day, and every one since. It wasn't that she had been purposely looking out for him, honestly, she was a creature of habit and had settled into the routine of sitting at the table everyday after coming home, not long after moving in. Then one day, he just so happened to choose to walk across to the bar at the same time that she had looked up.

There was just something about him that made him difficult to ignore, and she couldn't put her finger on what it was. It wasn't the shock of crimson hair; even though that certainly did grab one's attention, there was something else that made it linger on him. She had always liked to observe people, and the Turk was definitely an interesting subject.

_Maybe that was it_, she thought, the Turk suit, and all it represented. She had read the occasional mentions of the Turks in newspapers over the years, and heard the whispered rumours about the true nature of their jobs. Henchmen, murderers, monsters, demons, they'd been called, along with long strings of other unsavoury names. Someone had even claimed that they'd been single handedly responsible for the Sector 7 incident.

That had been the rumour that had scared her the most; kidnappings, assassinations, these seemed so removed from her life that it was easy to imagine that they were nothing more than stories. It was harder though to ignore an entire chunk of a city that had been completely destroyed. _Could someone really have done that - deliberately, knowingly condemned all those people to death? Who could be that heartless? _

All these thoughts and more had run through her head when she had first heard that there was a Turk living in this very apartment block. She had seriously considered looking for another place for a time, because of that, but finally decided that she shouldn't throw away such a good offer based on a handful of rumours. Even if such a person _was_ living in the block, well, she would just hope that they would never run into each other. That was one of the perks of living in a city after all, the sense of anonimity.

And then, after almost a year of blissful ignorance, she had come home one evening to find a man in the distinctive blue-black suit... lying on the floor and shouting obscenities at the lift. He certainly hadn't _looked_ like a cold-blooded killer, or behaved like one. Granted, her experience with other cold-blooded killers was limited. Although she did sometimes wonder about some of her kids...

She idly tapped her red pen on her lip and continued musing over the strange contradiction between her imaginary version of the creepy-Turk-who-lived-in-her-block and the real one that she had actually observed, trying fruitlessly to reconcile the image and the truth - or what she thought was the truth, from the short encounter. Then she shook her head and laughed ruefully at herself, shuffling those thoughts away with the finished papers. If she wasn't careful, she'd turn into one of those little old ladies who did nothing with her days but peer in at her neighbours' lives. Maybe Sheila was right, she did need to get out more. _Tomorrow_, she promised herself, _Tomorrow I'll go out and socialise with actual humans instead of my books or piano or wondering about the nature of strange men who might-or-might-not-be-ruthless-mass-murderers. _

She added that to her mental "To Do" list with a sigh. It wasn't that she was anti-social by nature, it just seemed that people didn't want or know how to respond to her. They either looked at her with either disgust or pity, or simply pretended that she wasn't there. All three reactions frustrated her. All anyone seemed to notice was her chair. Why was it so hard for others to see that she was just a normal human being, and treat her like one? _What I wouldn't give for just one day -_

A sudden scraping sound broke through her thoughts. The woman's dark head shot up, and her eyes went to the window.

She screamed as someone calmly climbed through her open window and started walking across her floor.

The cafe continued to wink silently from across the street.

* * *

Congratulations if you made it to the end XD; i was going to include the next scene in there instead of splitting it off into another chapter, but i thought that over 3k words for one installment was quite enough. Feel like writing it now, but it's past 3am here now too - purely coincidence. You can probably guess what will happen anyhow XD Comments welcome, as always!  



	3. Intrusions & Introductions

**Updated17th May, 2006: **Minor edits, primarily changing the paragraphing in places and abit of rephrasing or adding a line here and there.

**Updated 12th Dec, 2005:** Tried to smoothen the flow a bit and added quite a bit more inner thoughts.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you agains to the reviewers! Yes, Reno in this story has a decidedly non-angsty past. XD Thought i'd try something a little different from the norm with it. There are other reasons than that for the normal past i constructed, but it might be giving away too much info if i explained everything now. i'm glad that Tseng didn't seem OOC. He's a very interesting character, and quite fun to write as.

This chapter continues the morning after what happened at the end of Chapter 2. The wheelchair girl's name is finally revealed as well, though it's not a big issue... perhaps. i really hope she doesn't come across as a Mary Sue x.x

**Disclaimer: **Reno, Reeve and Tifa are property of Square Enix. The other characters are my creations.

* * *

_Islands_

_Chapter 3: Intrusions and Introductions _

Consciousness slipped slowly back across his still half-slumbering mind, along with the start of what promised to be a major hangover.

Reno scrunched his eyes closed even more tightly, as if trying to force himself back to sleep in order to delay the inevitable. It had been a good night, one unplagued by dreams, and he didn't want to surrender to the demands that day brought quite yet.

What day was it anyway?

His groggy brain reluctantly began to sift through his memories of the day before to find the answer. _A hamburger_. No, not what he had for lunch, the day. _Er... Friday. So it's Saturday. _Good. He could sleep in. Not that he woke up early even when he was supposed to be in the office anyway. But today was a Saturday, and that meant no Shin-Ra, since Reeve had announced some time ago that they would only have five-day work-weeks. The Turk rolled over onto his side to go back to sleep, and hit his face on... a backrest? He must have fallen asleep on the couch after stumbling home last night; he couldn't remember. Drowsy aquamarine eyes drifted half-open as he tilted his head back to take a glance at the clock. _The hell?_ There was no clock. And he was pretty sure that his sofa was black... or had been, when it was new... rather than off-white. Mold couldn't have grown all over it in one night; and not so evenly either.

His brain groaned in protest as he forced it to go over the previous day again, to try to figure out where he had ended up. Nothing. He remembered heading across the street to the bar in the evening, and ordering a drink, which had turned into a dozen or so while he tried not to think about... certain things. His usual routine. The next memory was of waking up and trying to figure out the day, and then who had stolen his clock and painted the sofa while he was out cold.

_Okay, let's see... _He'd been alone, so he couldn't be at Rude's place. And this wasn't his place either. So...

Somewhere behind him, there was the soft sound of a page being turned and someone shifting positions.

_Shit. _

He'd probably followed some random woman home after chatting her up at the bar, although he couldn't for the life of him remember doing so. That wasn't the problem, in his mind. The problem was that she was apparently awake, and would most likely expect him to know things that he had no idea about, such as her name. He couldn't even remember sleeping with her, how was he supposed to remember _that?_ He didn't think that line of reasoning would go down well with her though. Whoever the 'her' was.

Maybe if he could sneak a peek at her face, it would jog his memory.

With Reno, to think was to act. He closed his eyes again and slowly turned over onto his other side, raising one hand over his face in what he hoped would pass for a gesture made while still asleep. He waited a few seconds before carefully opening his eyes behind the shelter of his hand.

There was something vaguely familiar about her although he still couldn't remember her name. _SHIT._ But he wished she did (though more importantly, he thought, he wished he remembered the sex).

The woman was seated in an arm chair diagonally opposite from him, across a coffee table, her legs curled up in front of her with a book perched on top. She was just shy of thin, but still had a bit of a figure, though she was clearly no Tifa Lockhart. Her features certainly weren't distinctive enough to place her in the model category but she was pretty - well-proportioned features, fair skin, and long, slightly wavy black hair that appeared to reach her hips. She was looking down at her book so he couldn't see the colour of her eyes well through the dark lashes. A set of inquisitive blue eyes hidden behind a hand drifted from her face, down the pale column of her neck, to the simple white tank top she wore, then down a little while later to her rather comical pajama bottoms, and finally to the small, finely-boned feet. Reno noted with a tinge of amusement that the paint on her toenails matched the pale red chocobos gamboling over her pants. She wasn't his usual type, but...

_Holy fuck._ Reno stared at the large meat cleaver resting next to her on the chair, which he had just spotted. She was going to kill him. Literally. And maybe eat him. Just his luck; he'd followed a freaking _psycho _home, and he wouldn't even know what name to scream when she plunged that big-ass knife into him. His eyes flickered nervously to the book on her lap, wondering if it was a cannibal cookbook.

One might have thought he was exaggerating, but being acquainted with Elena had taught him that it was not a good idea to underestimate an angry, small-sized woman. This woman was no Turk, but that didn't mean she couldn't be dangerous...

The corner of his mouth twitched. Though the cheery pastel pajamas replete with dancing chocobos and the words "Happy Chocoday!" scattered over the material _did _make it hard to take her seriously.

He wondered if he should just continue pretending to be asleep until she left the room to do something, and then make a break for freedom. But what if she didn't leave? What if she was looking thorough her freaky cookbook for the last time before starting her preparations for lunch?

_Hell, I'm a Turk, I'm not going down without a fight. _

It was at about this time that Reno realised his electro-mag rod was missing, and that he'd left his gun at home.

"Awake at last, I see."

_AffdRedtghhsA!_

Reno sat up slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements that would worsen his rapidly growing headache or give Crazy Chocobo Girl a reason to slice his head off. _Though she's crazy so she doesn't need a reason does she? Fuck. _He looked across the table at his murderer-to-be. With his eye-level raised in this position, he was able to see a large object beside her, previously obstructed from his view by the arm of her chair. Metal, cloth, plastic and rubber. Recognition came at last and he blinked. "You're the wheelchair girl."

He knew, before the words had completely left his mouth, that it had been the wrong thing to say. For a moment she looked like she was going to lunge across the table at him. He could see the headlines of the evening paper already: "Shin-Ra Ace Turk murdered by crazy, chopper-wielding woman in chocobo pajamas".

He observed her for signs of an impending pounce. In all seriousness, he knew he could have handled her even if she had truly tried to attack him; but he'd rather it didn't come to that. He doubted it would go down well with the others or the public if they heard that he'd manhandled a handicapped girl, even if she _had _been the one wielding a knife. They'd probably argue she was just defending herself. That wasn't exactly the kind of reputation he wanted to cultivate. There was a difference between being feared for his skills and being just seen as a bully; and whatever anyone else may have thought, Turks weren't supposed to be the latter. _Well then, first priority: Prevent angry woman jumping -_

His thought was suddenly sidetracked by another part of his brain commenting that angry women could look kind of hot, what with the (non-literal) "I'm going to eat you alive" look and the heaving chest. _Eheh_.

His thoughts were soon broken into again, this time by the woman's sigh. The anger seemed to drain from her with the exhaled breath, leaving behind an expression of resignation instead. "I have a name, you know."

She usually wasn't quick to anger, but this had always been a touchy issue for her. _Be nice,_ she scolded herself,_ I'm sure he didn't mean it in a degrading way. And like it or not, it is true anyhow. You are "the wheelchair girl"... _

"Yeah, but I don't know it. So you're still Wheelie Girl to me," the red head grinned, feeling far more at ease now than he had just a short while ago. From their brief previous encounter, he had surmised that she wasn't the homicidal sort. Nah, she seemed more the "Love thy neighbour", "Turn the other cheek"type.Plus she definitely wasn't the sort to frequent a bar, so he figured that nothing had happened, so there was little to fear on that front either. _Besides..._His gaze drifted back to the empty metal chair.

He still wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up here but that seemed like a minor issue at the moment. Maybe he'd collapsed outside her door and she'd let him in. It might explain why she was so wary around him. Reno knew he did and said some pretty stupid things when he was drunk, though he seldom remembered the actual contents afterwards. That was the way he liked it.

But he was sidetracking.Reno tilted his head and looked at her appraisingly. "Not keen on that, huh?Do you prefer Chocoday Girl?" Evidently, his earlier plan of avoiding her wrath had been forgotten in the half-minute that had passed since.

She looked irritated again, and then perplexed for a moment. "'Chocoday' Girl?" Following the man's aquamarine gaze to her own pants, she blinked, before her cheeks flushed and mumbled an excuse for her attire. An embarrassed pause followed as she self-consciously pulled a cushion she'd been leaning on into her lap. "Isla," she said at last. " My name is Isla."

"Reno." He leaned back against the sofa, watching her fidget slightly in her seat like a nervous rabbit. He eyed the cleaver again. "You're not planning to eat me, are you?"

She gave him a weird look. "Excuse me?"

"Er, heh, nevermind."

The woman just shook her head slightly and closed the book she had been reading earlier, after placing a bookmark on the page where she'd left off. _He must still be drunk_, she thought to herself.

She didn't understand why some people liked to indulge - and overindulge, she thought with a mental tip of the hat to the disheveled, red-haired Turk on her sofa - in drink. It impaired your judgement, it made you do foolish, dangerous things that you might later regret, "_Or give others cause to regret"_ she added, her eyes alighting on her legs momentarily; and there was the risk of developing an addiction. Plus, it was unhealthy.

Excessive consumption of anything was. Isla believed strongly in moderation. She liked balance and order, routines. She liked knowing exactly how her day was going to progress. Feeling safe. Sure, it wasn't the most exciting existence, but everything has its price.

She glanced at Reno, who seemed to be staring at nothing in particular. He looked like a man who embraced life's extremes, and enjoyed letting people know that. Her eyes took in the (no doubt carefully) tousled hair, the goggles (which she was sure were there solely for effect, instead of any practical purpose) and the dark blue suit, which had been crumpled long before he'd laid down on the couch.

She found her gaze lingering on the twin marks along his cheekbones. Isla was careful not to stare or look for too long despite her curiosity, knowing too well how unpleasant staring could be. They looked like the type of marks that ancient warriors would paint on their skin before entering battle. _I suppose it is fitting; Turks are Shin-Ra's warriors, aren't they? _

Bloodthirsty, merciless... yes, that sounded like the image of the Turks that she had built up from various sources over the years. She was still having trouble making Reno fit into the picture however. He seemed too... human.

"So," Reno started conversationally, after noticing that the silence was becoming prolonged, "you live here by yourself?"

Isla looked up, startled from her thoughts by the voice. She paused a moment before nodding. Then a slight frown crossed her face and her eyes narrowed slightly again. "Why? You don't think I can take care of myself?"

"Hey, i didn't say that." He raised one eyebrow at her defensive tone. _Talk about mood swings. _

Perhaps due to his experience with the matter, Reno had developed the skill of knowing how to estimate just how far someone could be pushed before they snapped, and used it liberally at both work and play. It was a useful skill. He liked to dance close to the line, near enough to the fire that he could feel the warmth lick his skin, but beyond the actual reach of the flames - something that all his coworkers could attest to, loudly and at length. And since he was still alive and in one piece, it could be said that he was fairly good at it.

Isla, he estimated, was veering rapidly towards true anger. It seemed that her handicap was a very sensitive topic with her, despite how calm and accepting of life she had appeared the first time they had talked. He found that he didn't really want to make her angry; he wasn't that much of a jerk to purposely piss people off completely just for the hell of it. Not anymore, at least. _Heh, getting soft in my old age_.

"I'm sure you can." He gestured at the meat chopper on the seat beside her and gave a playful grin, to ease the tension.

The embarrassed flush returned to her face. She still looked annoyed, but a little bit less so, Reno observed. Funny how much something as insubstantial as words could affect a person, for better or worse.

"You _did_ climb in through my window... I wasn't sure what to expect next."

He laughed and scratched his head. "I did? That's a new one. Surprised you let me stay here instead of kicking me out." Reno smirked lavisciously"Guess you _wanted_ me to spend the night."

The dark haired woman glared at the winking Turk, outrage and embarrassment simmering inside her. _How dare you suggest that! You're such an arrogant, insolent man. After I helped you too! _If she had known he was such a pervert, she would never have allowed him to stay. He hadn't _seemed_ that bad when they had spoken the first time. But then again, one five minute encounter was hardly a solid basis for accurate character judgement. "Believe me, it wasn't for a lack of trying that you didn't wake up outside my closed door," she replied tartly, crossing her arms across her chest.

Both eyebrows shot up this time. _Out of the pan and into the goddamn fire. _This woman seemed to be a minefield of triggers. Everyone was though; you just needed to know which buttons not to push. He certainly had his share of triggers, concealed beneath the laid-back surface.

"Chill, it was just a joke, Issy." _Wonder if she was raised in a convent or sumat. _

"Well I'm sorry that I didn't find it funny." Isla bit out crisply.

She was sleepy and the familiar tone Reno was using with her made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. It usually took people she'd just met a long time to warm up to her. While she'd often wished that people would be more friendly, she thought he was being somewhat _too _friendly. _I guess this is what they mean by saying "Be careful what you wish for"_, she thought wryly.

And then there was the fact that she'd hardly ever been flirted with before, and certainly nothing as blatant as this. She wondered if he was mocking her. Guys like him simply did not flirt with girls in wheelchairs. They probably didn't even usually chose to speak with them, unless forced to by circumstance._ Like, perhaps,waking up in their homes after wandering in blind drunk the night before._ If that was the only kind of attention she could get, she would gladly go without it, thank you very much. She didn't want pity. She just wanted to be treated like a normal person. Why was that so hard for everyone?

She was so caught up in her mental tirade that it took a while for her to realise that he had called her by another name. "Wait... What did you call me?"

"Issy," Reno repeated, beaming innocently as a cherub. He was watching her expression even though she didn't realise it. Tseng wasn't the only one good at secretly observing people.

She looked bemused, but not angry. "You could just use my proper name... It's no longer than that."

"I know. But I like Issy better," he grinned. "Isla makes me imagine some girl in a bar in Costa de Sol with a frilly skirt and fruits on her head." He could tell from her expression that she wasn't sure whether to laugh or to roll her eyes at him. Back on safe territory.

"I think a few of my kids are more matured than you are," the woman sighed at last, rubbing her temple.

Now it was his turn to look bemused. "Kids?" She didn't look old - mid-twenties at most, he thought. And didn't she say she lived alone?

"Yes." She smiled faintly, perhaps guessing his thoughts. "I'm a teacher. Elementary school."

"Oh." He should have guessed. _Hey, wait a minute._ "Should I be insulted?"

"That I compared your mental maturity to that of ten-year-olds?" There was a teasing lilt to her voice.

Reno grinned. "I'm just young at heart." He let his voice drop low in a conspirational tone. "Though if you want, I can show you just how _matured _I am..." He grinned even wider, knowing that the flames might flare up again. He never could resist playing with fire.

Her face was trying to mirror the hue of his hair again, he noted with a silent laugh. _This is fun._ Almost like baiting Elena, except he hadn't gotten a black eye yet. "As... inviting as that sounds, I'm afraid I must decline the offer."

"Come on Issy, you know you want to," he teased, dancing almost up to the flames.

She turned to look out of the window. She knew now that he meant no harm, but it was still uncomfortable for her. _It's pathetic, really, I'm twenty-four and I still act this way._ Isla kept her eyes focused on the scene outside, trying to regain her composure. The cafe was open again. It looked so different by day, she thought distractedly. "I... I don't think this is a very appropriate conversation to have with someone I hardly know, jesting or not." _Pathetic._

He sighed in mock defeat. "Anyone ever told you you sound like their grandma?"

Her face turned back sharply and she narrowed her eyes at the red head. "Better than sounding like a prepubescent boy who's just discovered the opposite gender."

"Touche." Reno leaned forward and met her gaze, his trademark half smirk twisting his lips. "Tell me, are you always this cranky in the mornings, or am I just that special?"

For a second it appeared that he had finally gone too far and that she was going to either give another angry retort or slap him; but it passed, and she closed her eyes. "I... I'm sorry. I'm a bit tired from staying up all night." Isla ran a small hand through her hair and averted her gaze. She felt genuinely bad for snapping at him so many times, when all he had been doing was being friendly; yet she couldn't seem to help it.

She did look tired, he noticed after looking more closely, only now seeing the slight bags under her eyes and the weary tilt of her head._ Violet,_ he thought suddenly,_she has violet eyes._

Isla smiled. It was warm, if tentative. "Would you like some coffee? Or tea?" An apology, he realised.

"Yeah, sure. Coffee sounds good." He flopped back against the couch, slightly relieved that she hadn't really been offended, and muttered a curse as his head spun after the sudden motion. "Aspirin too, if you have any."

Isla nodded as she carefully transferred herself from the armchair to her wheelchair in an oddly graceful manner for what Reno would have presumed to be an awkward movement to perform. "I'll be back soon. Um, you can watch the TV if you like. The remote's in the holder beside you." He watched from the corner of his eyes as she wheeled herself to the kitchen, the meat chopper balanced on her lap, before reaching for the controller. He flipped through the channels, but his eyes strayed more around the room than focusing on the screen.

The layout was exactly the same as his own apartment's, except it was a mirror image. _In more than one way_, he thought, _cleaner than a fucking Ikea showroom_. He looked at the weighted cloth draped over the arm of the sofa, with its compartments for a few remote controls, pens, and magazines. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen his own TV's remote. There was something about the apartment, other than the aforementioned neatness, that struck him as odd. It took him a couple of minutes to realise what it was: everything was arranged or placed at a certain level. No high shelves, no pictures on the walls (though he did spot several framed photos on a side cabinet). He was about to get up and take a look at them when Isla returned, a tray resting on her legs. She set the items on the table, sliding a packet of Aspirin and the red mug over to Reno, and picking up her own cup.

The coffee was thick and strong, and he felt his head clear a little as the aromatic liquid slid warmly down his throat. Reno watched her over the lip of his cup as she took a sip from her tea. She looked much happier than she had earlier, almost relaxed.

After a while, she started telling him about what had happened the night before. Nothing very out of the ordinary for a drunken Reno, if what Rude and Elena told him was the truth, but he supposed that it must have been a rather alarming experience for someone as straight-laced as Isla. She admitted as much, with a rueful smile, adding thatit'd never even occurred to her to call the police.

A minute later she set her mug down and fished out something from behind her. Reno took his EMR back from its temporary guardian.

"I hope you don't mind that I relieved you of it when you fell asleep. As a safety precaution."

He slid it back into its usual place, and looked at Isla, lips quirked faintly. "So you trust me now?"

She picked up the blue mug and cradled in her hands. "If you had wanted to harm me, you probably would have by now."

It was true, of course. Few people could resist the will of a Turk bent on terminating them. He wondered what she would say if he told her that he knew of at least twenty ways to kill someone with his bare hands.

All of a sudden, he was seventeen again, back home in Kalm to tell his parents that he had joined the Turks. That had been the last time he had gone back to his former home.

He imagined, as it had been with them, her soft smile fading into horror, the mug crashing to the floor, ruining the pristine carpet. The anger and fear afterwards.

You couldn't really compare the weight of such a reaction from family with one from a relative stranger, but... _No point scaring the girl_.A pause. _She makes good coffee._

So he merely grinned the famous Reno grin that said so much and yet revealed nothing, and smoothly changed the topic.

* * *

Reno walked out from the kitchen into the hall, followed by the wheel chaired form of Isla. He looked back and grinned. "Thanks for the coffee and you know, not throwing my drunk ass back out the window." 

"You're welcome." Her mouth quirked. "But if you feel the need to drop by again, I'd appreciate if you used the door, the next time."

Reno grinned as he leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets. "Where's the fun in that, yo?"

He was in a good mood now, with both his headache and the awkward tension between him and his accidental hostess little more than a memory. She had become markedly less crabby once she had had some food and drink in her system, even managing a laugh or two, although she had still looked disapproving at a few of his jokes.

Isla sighed and shook her head. "Well, take care. And try not to drink so much, it's not healthy."

He gave a mock salute. "Yes m'am."Reno straightened up from his perch and turned to walk towards the elevators. "See ya around, Issy."

She nodded and gently closed the door.

The apartment suddenly seemed unnaturally quiet. Which was a strange observation, she thought, since she rarely had visitors, so quiet should have been its normal description. _... I need sleep, my thoughts aren't even making any sense to me._ She started towards her bedroom for some much needed rest.

She had wheeled herself to the doorway when a familiar ringing filled the air. Isla winced at the volume, unable to fathom how such a small gadget could produce such a loud, piercing sound. A quick glance at the caller ID was made before she flipped up the cover of the PHS. "Good morning, Sheila." Isla stifled a yawn with her free hand. She hoped that the other woman didn't intend to have a long chat - she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't doze off within half an hour.

"Hey girl." There was an audible yawn from the other end of the line. "I just woke up and I'm _starving_. Want to meet up for brunch? I'll swing by and pick you up."

Isla glanced longingly at her bed. "Actually I... Sure." She _had_ promised herself that she'd try to be more sociable; and she supposed that she could always sleep after lunch. Anyway, she knew her friend wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Great! I'll be by in about twenty? Meet you at the front. Oh my god, I had the _craziest_ night..."

Isla turned her body to look back at the living room; her eyes drifted towards a particular window near her dinning table and she laughed lightly. "You have no idea."

* * *

Not sure at this point whether i'm satisfied with the way the chapter went or not, but i think it'll do for now as i need sleep XD; i think it doesn't run that smoothly because i didn't write it in sequential order, and shuffled parts around a bit. But hopefully it's understandable. Comments are always welcome!  



	4. Mrs & Misunderstandings

**Edited 2 January 2006:** Corrected a few more errors and did a few slight rephrasings. **  
**

**Edited 25 December, 2005:** Made some minor changes and additions. And thanks for the review, somepersonxP! **  
**

**Author's Notes: **The chapters seem to be getting progressively longer o.O; Perhaps i should have cut this one up. i wonder how many people will read it all the way through XD; And yes, the title is a lame pun. But puns are fun T.T;

Thank you for those who reviewed since the last time! Glad you're enjoying it, Cab! Lol, yes, he was a bit inconsiderate in his choice of collapsing-space XD i'm happy that you like my Reno so far, Erialti, and hopefully this chapter will keep your interest alive :P And yup, Tseng must have amazing self-control, to be able to last so many years with Reno! If it's not obvious, the pairing will eventually be Reno/Isla,though i hope to build it up gradually and naturally. Still considering what other pairings to have, if any. i'm leaning towards (at least hinting) at Tseng/Rufus. i'm open to suggestions :D Finally, thank you to Oh Boy Enjoi and Skrap for Favouriteing this story!

... okay, i lied; not quite fiished with the notes yet. XD;

i did a cheap doodle of Isla earlier in the week: img dot photobucket dot com slash albums slash v227 slash isilme slash Isla dot jpg. Possibly not the final design, but there's the link for anyone interested in taking a look.

To those who celebrate, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!.

**Disclaimer: **Reno, Rude, Scarlet, Tifa, Reeve, Cloud Strife and Tseng are property of Square Enix.

* * *

_Islands_

_Chapter 4: Mrs. and Misunderstandings_

_09:57:02... 09:57:03... 09:57:04... _

The bus-load of school children - the third of the week - was due to arrive at the turn of the hour. The tall man in the well-known blue suit stood to one side in the main lobby of his company's headquarters. Trademark dark glasses spanned his equally unreadable face.

_09:57:15... _

"I still don't get why _we_ got stuck with this, yo. Shouldn't it be PR or HR or whoever's job?"

Rude continued to stare ahead. His partner was squatted on the floor next to him, rocking back and forth on his heels. Back, forth, back, forth, back, forth. That man never seemed to stay still, even when sitting. The only time his long-time partner ever recalled seeing Reno remain in one position for longer than two minutes was when the latter was asleep. Then the time bar went up to about ten minutes. He'd probably given his mother hell when he was in the womb. Back, forth, back forth. No wonder he ate so much but remained so skinny. Back, forth. Either that, or he had worms in his stomach. Rude was still shocked sometimes - as much as Rude _could _be shocked, that is - by how much Reno could fit into his mouth. He swore that the man had a distensible jaw.

"Seriously, man, Turks aren't cut out as babysitters. Us especially." Back, forth, hop, shake foot; back, forth.

Rude decided not to voice the opinion that he sometimes felt like he was on constant babysitting duty while around his red-haired friend.

"Elena maybe, she's probably genetically encoded to like babies and shit. God, do you remember that time in Mideel? I practically had to _pry_ her off that little kid. What is it with women and kids?"

"... maternal instinct." _09:59:46... _

"Yeah, probably. Can you imagine _Scarlet_ as a mom though? Scary shit." Back, forth, back... "Pity the sod that knocks her up. Nine months of a weapons specialist on perpetual PMS." Reno affected an imitation of the female executive's voice. "Can you get me some chocolate, honey? ... GET ME SOME GODDAMN CHOCOLATE NOW, BEEOTCH, OR I'LL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF! KYA HAHAHA!"

"..." _10:00:03... _Rude glanced out towards the building's entrance as a bus pulled up. "They're here." _Thank Holy_.

Reno sighed loudly and stood up, cracking and popping his knuckles as he did so. "Let's get this over with, yo." He adjusted his wrinkled blazer. Rude wondered if the dry cleaners gave him a discount for not needing to iron his clothes. On second thought, maybe not. They probably evened out the cost of removing the strange stains that the younger man seemed to collect on his garments like some kind of odd, wearable stamp collection. Reno glanced back from the his current position in front of the mirrored elevator doors. "Hey, let's go get a drink after this. I'll need one after a day with the brats."

The disembarking children and a teacher filed through the glass doors. A neat, single-file line soon formed up at the security check as the guards began meticulously scanning the visitors. "Can't." Rude shifted slightly and allegedly turned to watch. "... Plans."

Hands stilled momentarily on Reno's collar. One dark eyebrow arched. "Since when do you have plans? ... you going on a date?"

The large Turk didn't have to look at his companion to see the wide, teasing grin he knew was there. "... No."

"Aww, come on, Rude, you can tell me, yo!"

He cursed himself for saying anything; now Reno would continue wheedling and badgering him by turns until he'd exasperated the dark-skinned man into admitting his plans. Rude stared at the security check counter, silently willing them to hurry up as he sensed rather than heard the wily redhead approach. The bald man struggled to remain motionless and expressionless as a wiry arm slung itself around his broad shoulders. Despite what others may have thought, Rude was not immune to his feelings - something he knew that Reno was aware of, and would try to exploit, the sneaky bastard.

"Don't leave me in the dark, I thought we were friends," Reno whined.

No response.

Time for another tactic then. Reno crossed his arms and pouted. "You never tell me anything anymore!"

Eye darting sideways to the shorter man, Rude subconsciously shifted his weight onto the foot further away from him. Security continued to take their own sweet time.

"We never go out anymore, but you're never home either! And when I try to call your PHS, it's always busy! What are you hiding from me, Rudy?" Reno brought a hand to his heart and gasped exaggeratedly. A heartbroken sob filled the air. "Is there... is there someone else? Is _that_ why you keep hiding from me? Tell me it isn't so, Rude, tell me anything, just say it isn't so!"

Behind his sunglasses, Rude squeezed his eyes shut and sighed inwardly, knowing that nothing he could do now short of knocking the redhead out would shut him up. As tempting as the prospect was, the other Turk didn't really want to deal with a class full of school children and their teachers on his own. Kids made him feel large, (well, larger than usual, he mentally amended,) clumsy and uncomfortable.

"Who is it? Tifa? Ahah! You're getting your 'drinks' at her bar, aren't ya?" Reno rounded on the silent man accusingly, waving a pointed finger under his nose. "Am I right? Answer me, man!"

Rude tried to tune out the ranting, returning to the sanctuary of his own thoughts. Much as he professed to hate them, Rude had observed over the years that Reno was actually fairly good at handling children - probably from being so much like an overgrown kid himself. He sighed again, wishing he could grab his friend by the ear and give him a time-out.

"Why, Rude, WHY? After I gave the best years of my life to you! Don't you love me anymore?" The large Turk looked on in resignation, half-heartedly trying to push Reno off as his friend threw his arms and legs around him to cling on like an oversized koala. Damn that man's vice-like grip. It wasn't fair that such a skinny fellow could cling that hard. "You're going to leave me, aren't you?" An over done sob emanated from the quite possibly deranged red head.

If he didn't have head-damage already, Rude swore he was going to correct that in a few seconds.

"Are you two gay?"

The duo froze suddenly at the inquisitive young voice that had spoken up. _Add bodily damage to that too_, Rude thought.

Both faces turned to face the newcomer. It was a boy, around nine or ten years old; one of the school children they'd be playing tour guide to. It seemed to Rude that the Fates had recruited Security for the day, and that they had a rotten sense of humour.

Reno quickly disengaged himself from Rude, who he noticed was looking slightly pale under his dark complexion, and snickered to himself. He dusted himself off and smiled widely, batting his eyelashes at his silent partner. "Well, as a matter of fact, kid - Ow!"

The large hand that had shot out to grip his ponytail relaxed a fraction, but didn't release it. "Letgoletgoletgo!"

"Behave," Rude's deep voice intoned warningly. "Orders," he added after a moment's thought.

Reno grumbled, cursing Rude, Reeve, Tseng, the boy, and his bad luck for getting stuck with the job. What were the orders again anyway? Reeve's voice - his real one, not the weird tone he used as Cait Sith; seriously, that man had issues if he liked to prance around pretending to be a stuffed cat, Reno thought - replayed in his head. _Over all, I want you two to show the people of Midgar how much Shin-Ra cares for them, that we are trying to right the wrongs of the past and rebuild ourselves along with the city. We are not the uncaring corporation of the past. We are... like family!_

The skinny Turk twitched. How the _hell_ was he supposed to do that? _And yeah, definitely issues, yo._

He glanced at Rude, but received no help there, though he felt his hair being relinquished. _Asshole_, he thought ungratefully. Aquamarine eyes flickered back to the skeptical kid. "Actually, no, you see I was just, er... I love working for Shin-Ra Inc.! Yup. It makes me _so fu- _um, _fantastically happy_ to be able to come to work in this _wonderful_ place every day that I want to hug everything! ... Like my best buddy Rude here!" He threw an arm around the taller man's shoulders and gave him a squeeze, before stepping himself and his abused hair away hurriedly. His poor hair, he swore it would need years of therapy to recover.

The skinny Turk grinned so wisely his face hurt. "I love my friends, don't you?"

Rude just stared blankly at the other man, wondering if pulling his ponytail had severed the blood supply to his brain.

"Just being in Shin-Ra fills me with feelings of love, peace, sunshine and rainbows. I love everything about Shin-Ra! Like... this pillar!" Reno strode up to an innocent pillar and threw his lanky form onto it, gripping it tightly. "I love ya, pillar! Thank you for supporting this _amazing, environmentally friendly_ and _socially conscious_ company!" Inside, the violated pillar wept.

The boy stared at the man in the blue, messy suit, and wondered if he was quite right in the head.

* * *

"Joshua! I told you not to run ahead! Come back here, please." 

Three male sets of eyes turned to look to the source of the new voice, heads turning at various speeds.

"Sorry Miss Branwen." The boy slunk over to his teacher's side obediantly, although looking only vaguely regretful for his actions.

She seemed too distracted for the time being to notice this, however, staring as she was at the unwilling pillar's ornament. "You!"

Reno's own eyes had widened momentarily in similar recognition. He stopped molesting the building's support structure and grinned. "Why, hello there!" He turned to look at the boy again. "See? Shin-Ra makes me so happy that I want to hug _everything!_" A wicked sparkle glimmered with promise in his blue-green eyes, as they returned to regard the dark-haired woman.

She wasn't quite sure why, but some sense told it that it was a good idea to start backing away warily from the man, who had withdrawn his hands from his pockets where he'd shoved them a moment ago, and was advancing on her slowly with measured steps. "... what are you doing?" Her eyes darted nervously over his too-innocent looking face.

"Come're Isla, don't you want a hug?"

"No I don't... and don't you dare!"

His grin, if possible, seemed to stretch even wider as he stretched his arms out. Isla felt like a victim in a zombie movie.

She tried to wheel herself away more quickly, but he darted forward, and she squeaked as arms suddenly wrapped around her in a tight embrace. A flush of irritation and embarrassment bloomed on her cheeks, and he started laughing. She wanted to punch him for it, but her arms were unfortunately pinned to her sides. Isla coughed and tried to use an authoritative voice. "Reno, let go. Now."

Reno of course had never been one to respond well to authority figures.

"Nope. Don't want to." He smirked up at her cheekily. "Besides, as one of Shin-Ra's temporary ambassadors of sorts, I have been assigned to show our visitors just how _warmly_ we _embrace_ the people of Midgar. Just doing my job, yo."

"I don't think that you were meant to take that literally," she murmured, trying fruitlessly to shake him off her. He was thin, but had a grip tighter than a Rottweiler's, she realised, as Rude - and some of Reno's victims- had discovered before her.

He pretended not to hear her and bent his face discomfortingly close, inhaling. "You smell nice; almost edible, " he informed her a moment later with another maddening grin.

Her hands flexed and clenched in her lap. He blithely ignored her attempts to poke him in the stomach as she silently dismayed her decision to purchase a chair with detachable armrests, which she had left at home for greater portability. At least those items would have provided her with a small barrier from her strange neighbour right now.

Reno sniffed again and then tilted his head in contemplation, as if it was an everyday affair for him to pounce on and smell random women. Which, for all she knew, it was. "What is that, vanilla?" he asked conversationally, blinking innocently at her incredulous expression and deliberately misinterpreting it. "No? I could have sworn it was."

There was suddenly a loud yell that caused everyone in the lobby to freeze and stare, a crash, and finally a stream of colourful curses. Recognising the voice, the Shin-Ra employees soon shrugged and returned to their work.

Isla started and rubbed her ear as she looked up to see Rude towering over her, and a crumpled heap that she presumed to be Reno a few yards behind him. The redhead was still cursing loudly as he sat up, rubbing his head and back but appearing otherwise unhurt, his image more bruised by his unplanned flight and landing than his body. Rude kept his back to the man, unconcerned by the threats to his health, life, manhood and the like. She glanced slowly from one man to the other, then back again. The teacher gave the bald Turk a hesitant smile, not sure what the appropriate thing to say here was. "Thank you."

"No problem." She couldn't see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but there was a faint smile in the corners of his mouth.

Reno scowled and stuck out his tongue at Rude's back, while Isla bit her lip, trying not to laugh at his childish reaction.

He took the opportunity to study her from his position on the ground. They had seen each other a handful of times after the incident involving her window and his drunkeness, just in passing; most times these had been when he had rapped on her window and waved before crossing the street to go to the bar.

There had been something guarded about her all those times, despite the smile and wave she would give before returning to whatever she had been doing before the interruption.

When he'd first noticed this, Reno had thought about it for a short while and then shrugged it off, as he did many things in life when his mind could present no apparent answer. There was no point pursuing the thought for too long. If she didn't want to talk to him, that was fine; he wasn't desperate for company, and it wasn't like they were exactly friends either. Sure, circumstances had forced them together for a short time, but the choice of whether to continue the acquaintance was their own. Her decision had seemed clear enough. The usual bar he hung out at had reopened a few days later, and their occasional, awkward meetings came to an end.

Until today. He couldn't say that he had missed her - it would have been absurd since they had only really interacted a couple of times before - but it was nice seeing her again. Without her chopper and the cold atttitude, at least.

At that moment, something, or someone, rather, chose to step into his line of vision.

Reno looked up - not very far, he noted - at the face of a boy glowering down at him. It was a different child from before. There was something in this one's expression that reminded Reno of an angry bulldog. _Smallish eyes, snub nose, chubby cheeks - yup, definite bulldog material._ Bulldog glared at the Turk, arms crossed over his small chest. "Is this man bothering you, Miss Branwen?"

Isla wheeled herself forwards until she was next to the fallen Turk and the frowning student, and attempted to soothe the situation. "It's alright Thomas, he's... a friend."

The boy didn't look very convinced; quite understandable given the tone she had used, Reno thought, hearing the cool note slip back into her voice now that the excitement was over. _Even a kid could pick that up._ Again he wondered what lay behind the change. They had parted on good terms, and he was quite sure that he hadn't done anything to anger her. Had she been talking to someone about him? It didn't usually bother him overly much what anyone thought of him, but this attitude of hers was going to make things uncomfortable if he had to deal with her for the rest of the day. Though perhaps he could just let Rude deal with her, while he stayed somewhere out of the way.

On her end, Isla was indeed annoyed at and trying to ignore the red haired man, though the fact that he was sprawled on the ground near by made it hard to. A thrill of irritation that began to morph into anger threaded through her, as her eyes flickered to him momentarily and a particular conversation she'd had with Sheila resurfaced in her mind; but she forced the memory down for now and firmly pressed a smile onto her face. It would do no good to be surly, especially not in front of her class. She had to set a good example. She'd just try to retain a polite distance for the rest of the day, and everything should be fine. Then she could go home and forget about what an unprincipled, disgusting bastard he was... _Temper, Isla. _A deep breath, and she felt the control return enough for her to continue. "Really, don't worry." A bit of the strain left her smile. "Can you help me line everyone up when they get through the security check? I'll be over shortly. And keep an eye on Joshua for me."

Unaware of anything but the mission that had been laid before him, Thomas puffed up his chest slightly and smiled. "Of course, Miss Branwen. You can count on me." The boy aimed a final glare at the still seated Turk, _I'm watching you_, and turned to ran back to the entrance of the building, grabbing and dragging his classmate along as he went.

"All your kids that friendly?" Reno asked with raised brows after the children had departed and a short lull had fallen over the remaining adults.

"Sorry about that; he's a bit... protective of me." Isla laughed slightly and shook her head. "He's a good kid." A short pause. "Are you alright?"

"Hm? Yeah." Reno sprang to his feet, as if to demonstrate the fact. He could tell she was struggling to make polite conversation despite her unexplained dislike of him, and wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or appreciative of the effort. "Takes much more than that to put me out of commission."

"I can try again," a deep voice interjected.

"Screw you, Rude." Reno rearranged his clothes and hair as they talked. Oh well, if she was trying to play nice, he supposed he could too for a while at least. "Oh. Isla, Rude. Real name's Rudolph, but his nose doesn't glow." Reno's usual smirk made its return. "I'm sure a bit of Mako could change that though..."

A vein in Rude's forehead twitched, but he remained silent, preferring to ignore the jest and observe the other two from behind his shades. The Turk recalled his partner mentioning the wheelchair-bound woman a while ago, something about breaking into her apartment while drunk. He wondered if that was the cause of the slight hostility she seemed to have towards the other man. He supposed he couldn't blame her, if that was the case. Rude sighed, understandable or not, that wasn't gong to make the rest of his day any more comfortable.

"Wow, aren't we lucky! _Two _big boys in blue as our tour guides... And you _naughty _minx, Is, hogging them for yourself!" A woman with a pamphlet in hand walked over to the current trio after clearing the security desk, coming to a graceful halt beside the wheelchair. White teeth flashed when she smiled. A little too widely, Rude thought. "Hi."

Isla sighed and ignored the teasing. "Shiela, this is, ah, Rude." Isla paused as the two shook hands and exchanged greetings briefly. _Hogging these two? Not likely. _Not the red headed one, especially. _You can have him - oops, already did, my mistake. Darn it, Sheila, what were you thinking?_ "Rude, _Mrs._-" he thought she glanced at Reno in particular here, "- Shiela Hanslow."

* * *

He had been surprised to look up and see the brunette walk through the security check point a few minutes ago, and had been even more so when she had come over and introduced herself as Isla's coworker. Small Planet indeed. As if sensing his thoughts, the woman looked towards him, eyelids dropping slightly as she smiled up at him. Reno returned it with a smirk, head dipping slightly in acknowledgement. He glanced back at Isla beside her, only half-listening as the violet-eyed woman introduced Rude to her friend. Little Miss Priss and Wildcat Sheila working together, imagine that. _Never figured her as a teacher_. Then again, he didn't recall there being much in the way of conversation about their jobs when he had met Sheila roughly six months ago... 

Reno frowned suddenly, something Isla saying filtering through his thoughts and dragging him back from the pleasant memories.

..._ back up here a sec, Mrs.?_ He stared blankly at the other teacher, wondering if he had misheard. She was still glaring at him accusingly. He was suddenly glad that she hadn't brought her chopping knife along for the excursion.

"Not for much longer," the curvy woman intoned with a sly grin, apparently unaware or unconcerned about the effects of the revelation on the others. "Sheila's fine, by the way." Rude just nodded once before resuming his usual stance, though he cast a curious glance at Reno's suddenly confused expression and the wheelchair woman's murderous one.

Isla cleared her throat discreetly and continued with the introductions, still not quite able to keep herself from glaring. "And... I believe you know Reno." This time even Sheila seemed to notice the strange tone, and looked down at Isla, mouth open in surprise and unvoiced question.

Suddenly realising and embarrassed by her actions, Isla looked down at the list in her hand, studying it with an intensity that the contents did not warrant. There was an awkward silence as everyone tried to figure out what was going on.

At last, Reno broke the silence, if not the tenseness. "Been a while, Sheila."

While his voice still sounded casual, Rude saw the tightness in his friend's jaw. He could tell that the other Turk was trying to restrain himself, though Rude still wasn't sure what this was all about. This woman seemed to know the red head as well, and the other one didn't sound happy about it. He might have put it down to jealousy if Reno hadn't looked pissed as well. Rude scratched his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

* * *

Confusion had faded to anger and it took all of Reno's self-control not to grab his EMR and shove it up Sheila's lying throat. He crossed his arms to keep his hands safely away. 

He hated being used, being made a fool of; having someone pull his strings like he was a damed puppet. _I'm not Strife_, he thought savagely. Reno had always prided himself on being smart as well as strong - not necessarily book smart, but intelligent in all the ways that really counted. He always knew what was going on around him and how to use that knowledge to stay on top. _Nobody pulls a fast one on me._ Sure he acted like a clown sometimes, but that was completely different. He could be serious when need be, and anyone who really knew him was aware of it._ Fucking nobody._ He should have seen it... somehow. There must have been signs. He didn't know why she had lied, but he didn't care. She -

"I'll go check on the kids. Excuse me." Nobody else said anything as Isla abruptly departed to round up the class. Reno continued glaring at something only he could see, Sheila looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Rude... just looked like Rude.

"Well," Sheila started at last. The sultry tone had left her voice, and she adopted a more business like manner after clearing her throat once. Reno noticed that she was distinctly avoiding his gaze now. "We'd better start the tour I guess. Would one of you boys follow me? Don't think we can all fit in one lift." Her heels clacked on the tiles as she briskly headed towards the elevators without waiting for a response.

Rude glanced over at his partner, then stepped forward wordlessly. Only someone who'd known him as well and as long as his fellow Turks could have seen the silent sigh that he released before falling into step behind Sheila. "Meet you at the Visitors Center."

Reno let out a sigh of his own as he raked his fingers through his hair with a nod, and then stalked over to Isla and her half of the class. He knew he should have stayed in bed today.

* * *

Sheila had been right about one thing - there was no way that all of them could fit in one elevator car. Even half the class, fifteen kids, plus their two chaperones could barely squeeze into one. Reno watched as the doors closed on a very uncomfortable looking Rude, squashed on all sides by school children, and about to be trapped in a small, confined space with Sheila. It offered him a small degree of amusement to observe that the powerfully built Turk seemed rather unnerved by the woman who barely reached his shoulder. 

Reno waited for the next lift, in only slightly more comfort. Isla was obviously trying to ignore him, but being intent on being a good teacher, was attempting to do so in as polite a way as possible. The only time she really addressed him was to request that he refrain from swearing in front of the children, when one of them had asked him a question that had elicited a typical Renoesque response. He briefly considered swearing even more, just to get her to react and to let him vent some of the irritation he was feeling for the world in general, but decided it wasn't worth it. He didn't put it past her to lodge a formal complaint about him, and he really didn't need a pay dock this month, what with the cost of the repairs for his car. _Stupid punks,_ he thought, at whoever it had been that had slashed his tires and scratched up the paint. If he ever found out who they were, he'd give _them _a scratching up to remember.

Thomas the Bulldog was standing between his teacher and the Turk-come-tour guide, shooting Reno suspicious glares every few seconds. It would have been funny if the latter hadn't been in such a sour mood. Since he was, it just added to his general grouchiness. The other kids were annoying too. That kid from earlier - _Jonah, Johnny or whatever _- kept asking him questions that he was in no mood to answer politely but was obligated to, and he was sure that there was someone who kept staring at him and occasionally tugging on his hair from behind, but they all looked innocently back at him whenever he whirled around. Oh yes, he hated Reeve with a deep, burning passion that Ifrit had nothing on.

The lift arrived at long bloody last, just before Reno decided it was time to go up to the guards' room and shoot someone if they didn't get the lift down to the lobby pronto. They started to pile into the steel and glass capsule.

It soon became obvious that Isla wouldn't be able to fit; after some debate, many assurances that on Thomas' part that he would get all of the children and himself to the correct floor safely, and flat out refusals on Reno's part to be stuck in the lift alone with the little monsters, it was decided that the kids would go up first and the two adults would follow in the next available lift.

With the children gone, they waited in stony silence for the next one to arrive. A minute crept by. Reno cursed and leaned over to punch the "Up" button a few more times.

"That's not going to make it come any faster."

"So you can speak, " he feigned surprise. "Thought your mouth had frozen shut."

"I had nothing worth saying," she replied crisply in a tone of voice that could only be called icy.

_Heh, fitting. Issy. Icy. _Reno smirked to himself at the private joke.

"What's so funny?"

"What, is it against the law to smile now?"

The glared at each other until the doors in front of them finally opened. Reno gave an exaggerated bow and swept an arm towards the open doors. "Ladies first." She moved past him without a word or further look. He followed after her stiff form. Inside, he glanced at her as he pressed the button to take them to the twentieth floor; she was studiously staring out of the glass at the scenery of rebuilt Midgar. He didn't know why, it was depressing more than anything else to him. Reeve had done a good job with the reconstruction efforts, he had to give the man that, but the scars on the city were still there in plain view. The elevator started to rise.

Then it suddenly lurched to a stop.

Isla turned sharply, seeing Reno retract his hand from the Emergency Stop button. A frown settled on her face. "What are you doing?"

"Clearing the air." He leaned against the mirrored doors and looked at her. "Now, normally I wouldn't care what you think about me or if you want to be the queen of PMS, but since I'm going to be stuck with you for the rest of the day, I'd rather get this out and over with." The issues with Sheila, he pushed aside for now; he'd deal with those later.

She crossed her arms and settled back in her seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your body obviously disagrees," he remarked, crossing his own arms to mirror her position. "Fifty-five percent of all communication is through body language - didn't you learn that in teacher school?"

Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Then she looked away, her frown deepening. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Fine." If she wanted to play that game, he could too. He flopped down onto the floor of the lift, his back to the panel of buttons - placing himself between her and the large red Stop button, she soon realised. He read it in her expression, and smirked. "You want out of here, you're going to have to talk." In truth, he was almost hoping that she would refuse. He didn't feel quite ready to deal with all those kids and that friend of hers right yet; not unless they wanted a bloodbath.

Isla glared at him, and leaned forward towards the panel. He caught her wrist and gently but firmly pushed her back. "No cheating, Miss Branwen."

She extracted her hand and settled back, muttering under her breath. "Jerk."

"See? You do have something to say." He found himself grinning at her murderous look. When she refused to continue or do anything but stare straight ahead after a full minute had passed, he sighed. "Look, since you're going to be so uncooperative and we do need to get out of here eventually, I'll make this easy for you. You're upset I slept with your buddy Sheila." _Hell, so am I._

"No. You were both consenting adults, why should I care who either of you sleeps with?"

_You're a lousy liar, you know that?_ He tapped the bridge of his nose. "Fifty-five percent physiology, thirty-eight percent tonality. That makes you eight percent a liar."

"Seven percent," Isla blurted out automatically, before cringing mentally.

Reno raised an eyebrow, his speech curtailed before he'd even begun. "Eh?"

"Fifty-five and thirty-eight makes ninety-three, not ninety-two. Therefore, assuming that I was telling an untruth, that would make me seven percent a liar." She scratched at her arm awkwardly. "I teach Maths and Music."

The man blinked. "Oh, right. Anyway, that's beside the point," he said with a cough, trying to recover his momentum. "The point, Isla Branwen, is that you're lying about not being upset."

"No I'm not." She held up a hand to halt the interruption. "Wait, let me finish. I don't care who you and Sheila sleep with. What _does_ bother me is that neither of you seems to care about the other people who _would _and have _every right _to care about your relationship -"

"Such as Mr. Hanslow."

"Yes." She looked down at her hands, before continuing quietly. "And Maya. They have a daughter. She just turned two last month." Isla raised her eyes to look at Reno hardly. She was surprised, then confused by the disbelieving look he shot her before turning to stare moodily ahead.

"Well see, here's the kicker - I didn't know that. Or that she was married." There was a trace of bitterness beneath the deceptively light tone.

Isla stared at him. "What? But... you must have." She frowned. "You're lying."

"Why should I? She wasn't wearing a ring, and when I asked if she had anyone waiting at home, she said no. Now don't know about you, but to me that sounds like she's saying she's single."

She looked down at her hands, thinking it over. It was true that Sheila didn't wear a wedding ring - she'd lost it a couple of years ago, and hadn't gotten around to buying a replacement before she and her husband had started having problems, and she decided that a replacement wouldn't be necessary. Not the ring, at least. _But Sheila wouldn't have cheated on Martin, would she?_ After a while, as much as she loathed to even think it, Isla finally admitted to herself that yes, she would have. Not because Sheila was unfaithful by nature, but because her husband - "My Marty", in happier times, "That Effin Bastard" now - had been unfaithful to her first; and Sheila had always been a great believer in the Golden Rule. Isla remembered how devastated her friend had been when she had discovered he'd been having an affair. She hadn't wanted to believe it; it had, ironically, been Isla who had forced her to admit the truth. Then when disbelief gave way to grief and finally to the thirst for revenge, it seemed that she had tried to hurt him the same way he had wounded her.

Isla sighed. She hadn't agreed then and still didn't agree now with what Sheila had wanted to and had apparently done; but she could understand it. Still, she hadn't expected her friend to deceive the men she used to exact her revenge with. Isla knew that, unfortunately or fortunately, there were some who wouldn't have cared that Sheila was still a married woman and a mother. She just hadn't suspected that Reno wouldn't be one of them.

Twisting her fingers as her mind continued to turn, she looked up at the Turk. He was staring sullenly at the wall, seemingly lost in thoughts of his own. "I... I don't know what to say..."

"It may come as a surprise to you, Issy, but I don't fuck everything that moves, you know," he drawled, not turning to look at her.

Her face reddened. "I didn't say -"

"You were thinking it," he cut in flatly. This time he did look at her, and Isla found that she couldn't meet the accusing aqua gaze. She hadn't seen him angry before today, and it was not a reassuring sight. She suddenly felt very small. "You think just because I'm a Turk that I don't give a shit about anything else? Here's a newsflash for you, Miss Branwen, I do. And I _don't _sleep with married women, and I _most certainly don't _appreciate being fucked around with like that." The bitter intensity in his voice surprised her into glancing up. Seeing his face, she quickly looked away.

"I'm sorry..."

The expression on her face only served to fuel his anger. "Save it," he bit out shortly. He didn't want her pity or remorse or whatever the fuck she was offering. _Too little, too late, sweetheart._ He smiled grimly at nothing in particular. _Ain't life a bitch._

A part of his brain told him that he shouldn't be this angry at her - it wasn't _her _fault that her friend had used him like some cheap whore - but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wondered suddenly what her daughter looked like.

An image of his mother, chose that moment to surface; she was sitting silently on the bed, face as pale as the letter half-crushed in her hand. It was a short love note addressed to her husband, but not from her hand.

She eventually learned forgave his father for the affair, but he never had.

_Stupid fuck._ He wasn't sure who he was referring to, Fate, Sheila or himself. _Maybe all of the above_._ Hell, the whole damn Planet's full of fucking idiots... Damnit, I need a smoke._

Reno dug savagely into his pocket for his battered pack of cigarettes, shaky fingers grabbing at one and forcing it between his lips while his other hand pulled out his lighter and ignited the stick. There was something calming about watching the small flame waver and sway before him. _Click._ On. _Click. _Off. If only everything in life was that simple. His lungs drew a deep breath, taking in the dirty, poisonous smoke, and felt marginally better after that. Not nearly enough though. He glared up at the ceiling. If looks could kill, Sheila would have dropped dead and fallen twenty floors through the hole his eyes were trying to burn from the elevator. It was then that he noticed, and remembered, that there were smoke detectors in the lifts. The one in this car was starting to blink.

"Fuck." He did _not_ want an impromptu shower on top of all this crap life had shovelled onto him today. In one fluid motion, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun.

A single shot rang out.

* * *

On the floors above and below the one where the elevator was suspended in limbo, people screamed and ducked the bullet that never came for them, and looked about frantically for the mystery gunman. 

Up in the Visitors' Center, Sheila had been glancing at her watch and wondering what was taking the other two so long when the shot sounded. It was far enough away to be slightly muffled, but it was still clear enough for there to be no mistake about what it was. Everyone fell silent. Rude glanced at the teacher, then at the lifts a few meters away. "It came from the elevator shaft." He didn't have to say what "it" was point out which one he meant.

The colour drained from her face. "Oh Holy, Isla!"

Rude immediately called security. He didn't for a moment think that Reno had shot the woman, but he didn't really think it necessary to tell Sheila, having by now guessed what had happened earlier. What affected one of Them affected all of Them. He turned away from the pale-faced woman. _Let her stew for a bit._

_

* * *

_

Reno took another drag on his cigarette, ignoring the horrified look on the face of the other occupant of the lift. He was glad she was silent; at least he could enjoy his smoke in peace.

Fate was gracious enough to spare him two minutes before the intercom crackled to life near his ear, causing him to jump sideways and then swear loudly as he hit the side of his head on the metal banister.

"Hello?" The voice crackled.

"The fuck do you want?" he growled, rubbing his head. At least there was no blood. He still felt like shooting the intercom though. Static crackled as the person paused before responding. Reno glared at the communication device. He bet the crackling was its way of laughing at him. It was mocking him. The whole damn world was probably laughing at him. He chose to ignore the fact that the only other person he could actually see at the moment, and the person on the other end of the intercom, were not laughing, as that would have undermined the drama of the statement, and he was in a dramatic mood damn it.

"Um, sir, is everything alright? We just got a call reporting a gunshot was heard -"

"It was my gun."

"Er, right." John the security guard wondered if the Turk could _hear _the sweat forming on his brow. They had incredibly attuned senses, someone had told him. _Sniff in a crowded room, and they can tell it was you, even without looking! _John's eyes darted nervously back from the intercom panel to the security monitor showing the interior of the elevator. The man in the blue suit didn't sound pleased, and the guard had no wish to be the target of an angry Turk with a gun, literally or otherwise. He swallowed. "Is... Is anyone hurt, sir?"

"You've got a camera in the lift don't you? Does anyone _look_ hurt?"

He looked again, just to be sure. The picture was a bit fuzzy, but distinct enough for him to make out the two forms in it. There was a young woman in a wheelchair, and the Turk seated on the floor, just at there had been a few seconds ago when he'd last looked. No blood, no one groaning in agony. "No..."

Reno leaned back against the wall and lit another cigarette. "Well, there you go."

"Um... I noticed that the lift stopped moving, sir. Why... Is... Do you... uh..."

"I wanted a smoke."

John blinked. "In the lift? ... sir."

"Oh no, up your ass. _Of course _in the lift. Holy." Reno rolled his eyes at the young guard. _How the hell did a dumb kid like that get a job here? Reeve's really let Shin-Ra's quality control standards drop._

"Uh, but the fire detector, sir..."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, won't it go off, sir?"

"Not since I shot it."

A long moment of silence. "Right. Sir."

"And you're not going to mention that to anyone," he stated calmly.

Sweat pooled beneath the guard's collar at the hinted threat. "Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir! Er, whatever you say, sir!"

"Good boy. Now turn this thing off and go back to that porn mag you were looking at before."

Hazel eyes widened, flitting from the magazine he's hastily dropped near by to the intercom. _How did he know! _The boy's eyes glazed over with awe. "Right away, Mr. Reno, sir! Have a good day, sir!"

The Turk rolled his eyes again after the click indicating the intercom had been turned off. "Wanker." He took a deep drag on his cigarette and tapped the stub against the door. They probably wouldn't care about the ash and butts, what with the small hole in the elevator ceiling he had left. A wavy circle of smoke drifted up towards it like a gauzy halo.

Reno glanced at Isla after a few moments, noticing that she had been silently staring at him or somewhere past him all this time. She looked a little bit pale and a whole lot afraid.

He wondered idly if she had worn an expression like that the night he had drunkenly climbed in through her window. Most of his anger had faded by now, and he was left feeling vaguely guilty for scaring her like that. Reno kicked at the wall, turning his gaze away. _Stop it,_ he growled at her mentally. Not being equipped with thought-sensing skills, she continued to look at him like a terrified kitten being dangled over a well. At last he spoke gruffly. "I'm not going to shoot you, so you can stop looking at me like that." To his relief, she blinked and looked away, as if waking suddenly from a trance.

She'd probably never even seen a gun fired before in real life, he realised after a while. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone was exposed to the things that he was and had been. Her reaction reminded him of just how far apart their worlds were, even though they returned to the same building every night. His gaze settled on a poster on the opposite wall, with the Shin-Ra logo emblazoned across it.

Shin-Ra, Sephiroth, AVALANCHE, Sector 7, Meteor, Geostigma, Bahamut, Kadaj's gang - all were no more than distant names and images in newspapers, if at all that, to her, while he... he still bore scars from almost all of them, and probably would until the end of his days. She was, he suddenly realised, one of the only people he knew who had no association whatsoever to any of those entities.

It was a strange thought, but oddly comforting. He glanced at the handbag sitting in her lap. The building's security scan had revealed that it contained nothing more dangerous than a can of mace, a pen and a small bunch of keys. That spoke volumes about the kinds of threats she expected to face in her day to day existence. He contrasted that against his own 'accessories'. _EMR, gun, materia equipped bolt bracelet, pocketknife, Turk training... heh. _

While he could certainly remember a time when he hadn't walked around armed, he couldn't imagine going back to that. Like it or not, he would always be subconsciously looking out for potential threats and escape routes where ever he went, always on guard. _Not her though_. No, she had nothing to worry about, as long as she didn't venture into unsafe territories. He lifted his gaze from the bag to her face, still so pale. A small part of him envied that she could still be shocked by the sight of a fired gun. There was a world out there untouched by the horrors that had filled his entire adult life. Even if it was beyond his reach. But maybe... maybe he could get a glimpse of it once in a while.

He exhaled inaudibly and continued speaking as though they had still been conversing normally. "So anyway, where was I? Right. Turks do have morals. We just don't let them interfere with the job. I don't shoot people for the hell of it."

There was a long pause, and he thought she wasn't going to say anything. Maybe she didn't believe him. Why would someone like her believe the words of a Turk anyway? He probably didn't deserve her trust, after everything he'd done in the past. Yes, it was wisest not to trust someone like him. He was bad news. All Turks were. Who ever sent them to deliver _good _news, after all? Normally the message was, "You messed up, now you have to die", "You tried to screw Shin-Ra over, now you have to die" or "You're a threat, now you have to die." Shin-Ra wasn't very original with its greetings he mused. _I mean, if you're going to take someone's life away, the least you could do was come up with a personalised sending-off line, you know? _

"Only smoke detectors?"

Reno blinked at the unexpected interruption to his thoughts and glanced sideways; her face was still a bit more colourless than usual, but she regarded him with a wry half-smile. _That's a start._ He was almost starting to get worried that he'd stunned her into silence for life. She had quite a pleasant singing voice, he'd discovered one evening as he passed her window. _Figures she's teaching music. _She'd stopped singing when she saw him though and refused when he'd tried getting her to continue. Maybe he'd resume his attempt another day. For now though, he'd settle for a sentence or two. Anger he could deal with; silence he could not.

He grinned and responded lightly, deciding to follow her lead. "Hey, it was pissing me off, glaring down at me with its beady little eye like that."

Isla shook her head and sighed, the smile widening just a fraction more. _Score._

Blue blazered shoulders shrugged nonchalantly, though he covertly kept an eye on her reflection in the doors. "They're probably used to it by now. I bet they have a 'Reno's damage of company property' item in the budget." He looked over at her more directly and could see that beneath the fledgling smile, she was still trying hard to get over the shock and pretend that she was in fact thoroughly used to men whipping out guns and shooting offending ceiling fixtures as and when they pleased. She wasn't succeeding that well, but he supposed the effort was worth something.

At least the apprehension was gone from her eyes. _Far too trusting to ever make it as a Turk_. Even if it was his own thought, he wasn't sure if he thought of it as a compliment or an insult, or which she would have considered it.

"You must be a horror to work with."

"So I've been told, Miss Branwen," the troublemaker grinned incorrigibly. He was slightly pleased to hear her laugh. "But they haven't fired me yet, so I must have some use to them. Now, let's not keep your little friends waiting any longer, shall we?"

At her nod, the sputtering cigarette butt was dropped and stomped on before its owner rose to his feet and pressed the red button behind him. The lift gave a slight lurch and continued its climb.

Isla was barely aware of the scenery outside that had seemed to captivate her earlier, as the lift sped upwards. Part of her mind was still recoiling in horror at the casual way the red-haired Turk had drawn the gun and shot out the smoke detector, hitting it dead on without even looking; but she reminded herself that it was just his training. She tried not to think about what other things his training may have entailed, and what its purpose was. He was a man, no more and no less.

She still wondered why her accusation had bothered him so much, however. He was probably used to people giving him dirty looks and untrusting glares by now - it came with the suit. Surely she was not the first; she knew she would not be the last. A twinge of sadness greeted the thought. But he should know not to take it personally, that others would see him through the filter of rumours and whispered accounts, no matter how complete or true they were or weren't. It wasn't entirely her fault that she had assumed the worst of him... was it?

Her conscience reared up then; she remembered her own experiences with strangers: the looks, the remarks - not always concealed, the occasional hostility. _It must be even worse for him_. Guilt and shame washed over her. _Just because you grow to expect it, that doesn't mean it hurts any less_, the little voice reminded her, _how quickly you forget. What was that you like to say about people judging you on appearances? It cuts both ways, you know._

And how the blade stung, too. Holy, didn't she feel like a hypocrite now.

She sank down a little in her chair, too lost in her remorse-filled thoughts to be aware of the amused blue-green eyes watching her reflection in the mirrored doors. When she did finally notice them, her face reddened and her lips parted. But whatever she might have said was delayed 'til a later time, for the lift chose to chime, and the doors began to part for their arrival.

* * *

Anyone who read through all of that rambling at one go deserves an award XD; And if anybody's wondering, i actually haen't decided what or who Rude's plans entail... Suggestions, comments (about the chapter or anything else)?  



End file.
